


Depth of Field

by dreamyhoney



Category: Life Is Strange (Video Game)
Genre: Choking, Daddy Kink, Implied/Referenced Self-Harm, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-05-11
Updated: 2016-05-11
Packaged: 2018-06-07 19:18:50
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,520
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6820813
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dreamyhoney/pseuds/dreamyhoney





	Depth of Field

Somewhere in the confusing mess of his mind Nathan knows he should stop this. He can't think when Mark is on him like this, mouth hot against his neck hands forceful on his hips. He doesn't believe for a second that Mark feels anything for him. But Mark knows what he needs and he lets the man prey on it. He wants the empty praise and the affirmations that only come when Jefferson is undoing the button on his jeans. 

"You've done a really good job, Nathan," he says, "I need you to do this for me."

Mark Jefferson must be a vulture because Nathan is letting him pick his bones dry. Nathan feels his heart catch in his throat as Mark peppers kisses to the lines along his thin wrists. This is all a game to keep him here, but Nathan does not need convincing. He's long since given up thinking he feels anything for Mark either. He's straddling the man's lap and baring his neck in a silent prayer that he will spill blood. It's much easier, he thinks, to let someone else kill you than to try and do it yourself. He let's Mark push him down and tug his jeans from his hips, wondering if he looks as beautiful as those girls like this. Kiss bruised lips and the vacant gaze that Mark was so fond of. 

"What a good boy," Mark murmurs and Nathan tries to swallow down the way it makes his chest tighten. He knows this is all he deserves. 

He’s cried in Mark’s arms before, a shaking scared child. Begged him not to go and shown him weakness; practically bowed his head for the butcher’s blade. Maybe he should have put up more of a fight, painted himself something defiant. Mark likes his toys with a little spark in their eyes but Nathan doesn’t think that’s something he’s ever had. No, he doesn’t feel anything for Mark Jefferson but something in him wishes he could be another picture on his wall.

‘I need this. I need this. I need this,’ he reminds himself, a litany that cannot leave his lips. His forehead crinkles like he’s going to cry but he chokes it down. Mark’s warm hand finds his cock and strokes it to fullness. He lets his other hand travel the boy’s jaw until it rests feather soft at his soft lips.

Of course, of course, of course he does not want Mark to love him. If he might have once no one can prove it. 

He parts his lips, obedient, and sucks at Mark’s fingers. Eyes open just so slightly; Ophelia at peace.

“Just like that,” Mark says, humming his approval. Nathan, usually such a hateful thing, is dead silent, save the soft noises caught in his throat. Mark is still stroking his cock, thumb brushing the head and making Nathan buck his hips into the touch. He let’s loose a particularly desperate moan that has his teeth grazing Jefferson’s fingers. 

Mark leans in close and breathes hot against his ear, “Are you gonna be good for Daddy”? He whines pitifully and nods his agreement. 

“Yes,” he manages, the word sticking in his throat. He’s sure Mark is getting off on having tamed him like this. He’s a caged dog here and he wonders if Mark really thinks he would have it in him to leave. Right now there is nothing more than this. Mark’s body framing him on the sofa, his legs parted all centerfold and no subtlety. Mark is uncapping the bottle beside him and Nathan let’s his gaze fix on the stark white of the ceiling. As Mark pushes a finger into his heat Nathan feels the acrid taste of metal fill his mouth. He’s a mess for Mark, lip split and trickling, expression twisted and unreadable. 

Mark presses in another finger, and Nathan appreciates the slight burn of the stretch. The man’s body is bent over him and he sucks bruises into the exposed white of his neck. And, oh, he’ll be good. Nathan’s obedience is so easily won. His toes curl as Mark crooks his fingers pressing against the bundle of nerves inside. 

He wants to beg, cowardly as he is, plead with Mark to make him forget. He’s porcelain and paper thin under him. Docile and still silently pleading to be broken. 

Mark knows he’s volatile and he knows not so deep down he is scared. His fingers drag and catch, and Nathan makes a guttural noise. In some way Mark must want him. It feels ok to be used, he decides. This is real right here and now, and if he let’s his vision fall out of focus and blur the whole thing can transform.

He will always let Mark stitch him up just to tear him open again. Mark adds a third finger and Nathan rocks back eagerly. His hands scrabble for purchase against Mark’s suit as he let’s sensation overcome him.

“Please,” Nathan pants and his eyelids flutter wildly. Mark smirks, withdrawing his fingers and giving Nathan a sharp slap to his thigh. He busies himself with undoing his pants. Nathan has stopped being bothered by the fact that Mark never gets fully undressed with him. He tugs his sweater over his head, not worrying with the buttons. Bruises litter his now exposed chest, not all of them from Mark. His body is a mural of purples and reds that blossom from his neck down; picturesque, he hopes. Mark thumbs a fading mark against his nipple that has the boy choking out a plea. Still pressing against the bruise, Mark leans in to kiss him deep and open mouthed swallowing up his pitiful noises.

“Behave,” he chides, but his wolf’s grin remains. Nathan bites his lip feeling Mark pressing against his entrance. He clenches his fists in anticipation, catching the fabric of Mark’s suit. His mouth hangs open as Mark thrusts in. His whole body rocks with along with Mark and he moans soft and breathy. Mark’s arms cage him in and he feels so small like this. It makes him feel safe too, as dumb as that seems. If anyone should know to fear Mark Jefferson it should be Nathan, who’s seen him bare his teeth. 

“Fuck,” Mark hisses, Nathan’s shaking thighs brushing against him. “So good for me”. 

Nathan can feel heat coil in his stomach. He looks up at him through dark lashes and takes in the site of the man undone, glasses askew and sweating. He draws his tongue across his bottom lip slow. 

“Could you,” he starts, his breath hitching as Mark thrusts particularly rough. Jefferson raises his brow quizzically.

“Please, Daddy,” Nathan begs and pulls himself up to kiss Mark desperately. His back rubs harshly against the sofa, it’s pattern dragging against his skin. They’ve done this enough that Jefferson doesn’t need further explaining before he heeds Nathan’s plea and wraps a large hand around his throat. 

Yes, this is safe for him. Safe and tight and warm. His eyes roll back and he drops his hands to hold Jefferson’s in place. Mark Jefferson is here and now and he must need him for all the force which he holds him down. He will be good and pliant. Pretty and tame like a lapdog.

Nathan knows he isn’t what Mark usually likes but under him he feels more special than any girl who’d ever been behind his lens. The man’s thrusts grow erratic and his grip tightens on Nathan’s throat. His walls contract around Mark and his fingers claw at the hand on his throat. Mark curses inaudibly and grabs Nathan by the hips, his fingers lining up with familiar bruises. 

“Yes,” he pants, “Daddy!” He comes, shaking as Jefferson continues thrusting, grunting as he grows close. All he can see is Mark, coming in and out of focus. It feels real, visceral; this moment is all that exists. Mark floods his senses and he’s on an overload.

“Shit, Nathan,” the man yells as he finishes. They stay like this as Mark regains his composure. Nathan’s breath comes heavy and he watches the matching rise and fall of Mark’s chest feeling a stir of pride that he was undone by his hand. 

“Stay there,” he instructs, and rises leaving Nathan spent and sore on his sofa. Mark steps back into his wrinkled pants, not bothering with the button. The room spins slow as Nathan relaxes himself. He can feel come cooling on his thigh, which he supposes should make him feel filthy. He likes these things though, evidence that Mark wants him or at least has some parody of attachment to him. The details blur into a mess of greys and he shuts his eyes slow and waits for him to come back.   
He returns with his camera, and in another situation Nathan may have made some snide remark about how stupid he looked with the damn thing around his neck while he still looked like such a mess. 

“Perfect,” he mutters, wiping his hand on his thigh. Nathan stills as Mark sets up the shot.


End file.
